Anger Management
by Her Name Is Erika
Summary: Now that you’ve fallen, I can catch before you actually hit the ground. I can catch you and when I do, I don’t plan on letting you fall ever again. To catch you, I kiss you in midsentence. I’m not angry anymore… DanaLogan. Twoshot. Complete.
1. One

**A/N: New DL thing. It's going to be a two-shot. Some angst and fluff rolled into one. SET IN CURRENT SEASON, but Dana has come back. In this story which has both Lola and Dana in it, they're cousins, okay? I would have liked to see them interact with each other on the show. Shame on Nick for taking Dana out. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Zoey 101 "Stop This Song (Lovesick Melody)" by Paramore. **

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**Anger Management**

**One**

The clock ticking annoys me.

The guidance counselor, Ms. Larson, annoys me as she has that black notebook and pen in hand. You want to grab that book too, and that's the only thing we _agree_ on.

You, yourself annoy me, as you sit across from me in those couches that are soft but make your ass itch after a while. Two years later, and I'm back, and get used to me because I'm not going anywhere.

"You know Cruz, if you keep glaring at me like that, your face will stay that way…" you drawl out in a manner I absolutely hate. Not only because it comes from you, but because it's so damn condescending. You give me a smirk that I really want to smack off.

"At least I'll have a face, when I leave!" I yell, not giving two shits about the scratching of pen on paper. "I'll break your face, Reese… I don't care how 'hot' you think it is…"

That's right, Pretty Boy. I went there.

"I don't think. I know," you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You know how many girls want me?"

Yeah, I do. Airheads. Bimboes. Girls who are so desperate they have no choice but to suck face with you.

…_and the not-so-occasional curly-haired girl, sitting across from you in complete denial…_

I roll my eyes, and look away. Shut up, Annoying-voice-in-my-head!

"Yeah, I do know how many girls want you," I answer, with a sarcastic laugh. "The ones that fall and trip all over you only to go to sleep crying, 'if I had a brain and I wasn't a fake blonde with balloons for breasts. Boo-hoo-hoo'!"

Damn, Lola's starting to rub off on me. Melodramatics.

"What's the matter? Jealous?" you quip, and almost challenge me. Jealous? Please. You think whatever you whatever the hell you want. You can say I "ran" away to France, because I was allegedly afraid.

Make up all the bullshit you want. I'm not afraid of a challenge.

…_but you are afraid to fall, Dana. Because once you do, you'll probably never get up again. _

**This four four beat, I would die for you…**

"Okay," Ms. Larson says, addressing the both of us before I can retort with the perfect burn. "I've been observing the both of you – "

What am I? A lab rat?

"— and I've figured that the animosity you have towards each other is to cover up what's really there. Ms. Cruz, I understand you've been in France studying for the past two years…"

I hear you mutter, "Yeah, right…"

Ms. Larson raises an eyebrow at you, "Mr. Reese…"

I narrow my eyes. You see those hazel-coloured eyes glued to your so-called hot face? I'm about to gouge them out with the same pen Ms. Larson uses to write in that black notepad she never lets anyone see.

I'm fed up.

I don't know why the fuck I have to be in the same room as you, breathing the air as you when I actually wish you stop breathing altogether.

_You don't mean that. You know you don't. _

I stand up, "I'm sorry but these sessions aren't going anywhere! They won't as long as he is there…or here whatever!"

Your head is too big to absorb anything. Kudos to Chase and Michael for putting with your shit.

You stand up, and it looks like I've incurred your wrath. Hide me.

"_I'm_ being difficult?! You're the one acting like the world has fucked you over! Get over it!"

Okay, now it's on. Okay. Regardless of whether or not, Ms. Larson is here, I will chew you out like the insufferable douche you are.

"You expect every girl to kiss your feet, and worship you. Ever girl probably will! But not this one!" I point to myself. I'm done with these sessions. Anger management has failed me three times. Will this time be any different?

No.

"Ms. Cruz, both of you, have a seat," Ms. Larson instructs. "Now."

I'm done.

I'm sick of people psychoanalyzing me. I hate that. Look, you're doing it now.

"Maybe I like _them_ more because they're not so bitter and a complete _bitch_!" you yell, and for once, I'm stunned. I feel my heart – the same one you accuse me of not having – plummet fast. I won't let you see the real look in my eyes, so I slap you.

And damn, it feels so good to hear that loud smack as your big head jerks to the side. You think you know me well enough because of something that went down in the eighth grade.

Serves you right for thinking you know more than you should.

In fact, you know nothing, Reese.

I won't let you see the _real_ look that resides in my eyes, but I can clearly see your look of shock, and slight anger in your hazel ones. Good.

Be angry with me. That's what I want, damnit! Get angry at me! Go on, I dare you!

"Fuck you…"

I grab my black _Jansport _backpack, and leave the counselor's office. I don't care about your reaction, or that I've marred your _precious_ face.

You're infuriating.

**Someone stop this song, so I won't sing along…**

…_yet so intoxicating…_

I walk away and I'm in the middle of campus, walking, far away from you.

Wondering aimlessly as Paramore fills my ear with the help of my iPod.

I won't let you see the real hurt, and tears that wait to fall from my eyes, as I hope none of our mutual friends see me.

**It's gonna get the best of me tonight… **

I'm annoyed because you're the only one that could make or break me. No one else can break me. Applaud yourself.

You really should applaud yourself because you've gotten me to cry the millionth time in three years. I want you to get angry at me, because then I can return the rage. My hatred for you can grow and flourish while the love I have can fester away.

That's what we both want.

_He cut you, deeply Dana…_

Scratch that.

That's what **I **want.

**You won't get to me, if I don't sing.**

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**A/N: Review. It's 2:30 am so excuse grammatical things you might find. I tried a new writing style, and I hope you guys like it. How dark was that? Listen to the song as you read. It helps to set the tone. **

**I have no school tomorrow, so I might write the second tomorrow. Slim chance, though. **

**Damn, I'm tired, and I'm not supposed to be on this late. Goodnight, and review! Review ****Daddy Dearest, In the Morning, Noon and Night**,** and ****Dirty Little Secrets**** if you want more DL. Two are by me, one is by BrittanyOXYMORON. In fact, check out all of her stuff. **

**One word.**

**Amazing.**

**-Erika **


	2. Two

**A/N: Second and last part of Anger Management. Thanks to the seven people that actually left me reviews. They're much appreciated, and to those that read, and "forgot" to leave reviews, thanks, I guess…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Zoey 101, although I'm a bit frustrated that there haven't been any new episodes since October. Ugh. I'm starting to loose interest in the show a little bit. **

**Music: 'Hate That I Love You' by Rihanna feat. Ne-Yo **

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**Anger Management**

**Two**

You anger me too, Cruz.

You really do. No one has ever been impact how I feel, and you managed to do that in one session. Hell, you've been doing that ever since I saw you on the court play that basketball game in place of Quinn way back in eighth grade. You twisted my arm, even more when you left for France. I say a lot of things, okay? I bet you'd like to hear me say that I'm a jerk and an idiot, and that I never meant those things.

But I won't because I set out to do I wanted. I did what I had to do, so I hurt you. I hurt you deeply even though you tried to be your tough self. And I'm damn proud I did it because now you know. Now, you know how I've felt for the past two and a half years. A bit vindictive, but good, I did it.

I did it so I could watch you hit the ground flat on that beautiful face of yours, but I'm not that heartless, Dana. I wanted to damage you so that I could hurt you and then heal you all over again. Maybe I could love you again.

Maybe I could forget how to be the PCA resident Heartbreaker and give up that title. Maybe I could forget to fill the void with the girls I don't really like after all, but I just use for my own personal gain. Maybe I could forget that Lola's my own cruel little reminder of you, your little replacement, and that's why I tried to date her. It's ironic since you're related to her by blood.

Maybe.

There are a lot of 'maybe's' in there, because I'm not even sure if I can actually forget.

I hope you're at your dorm, because you can't ignore me forever. We pretty much share the same friends.

_Wow, that was a lame reason to talk to her. Even for you. Ever consider being guilty?_

Shut up, conscience!

Lola opens the door, and gives me a look. Great, this must be a family revolting thing.

"What do you want?"

"Look, I don't have time for your scolding, and any of your dramatics, okay? Where's Dana?"

"_I'm _being dramatic?" your cousin questions, as I give her an eye roll. "Why do you even want to talk to her? I thought she was too much a morbid and bitter bitch for you!" she retorts and then sighs, somewhat angrily. "Look Logan, you're my best guy friend, and Dana's my cousin. She's like a sister to me; she _is_ a sister to me. For once, use that head of yours and put your freakishly giant ego aside! Accept this unrequited love you have for my cousin, and do something about it now! Do something smart for once and end the insanity!"

I feel like she should be giving this speech to Chase, about Zoey. Whoops, I forgot. She already did…when she was walking in. Long story short, they're together now. So are Michael and Lola.

Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah.

Well, I guess I forgot to mention that she was my best friend and knows when I'm not paying attention.

"You're not even listening," she says, angrily putting a hand on her hip. Lola shoves a piece of paper at me, and she's still angry with me, but it melts away…sort of. Obviously, you'd confide in her. "Read that. And whatever you do isn't going to be my problem, if you don't think long and hard. She told me to give that to you."

She closes the door, and I open the piece of paper, with your writing scrawled in blue pen:

_**Ball Court in five or I'm gone. Meet me halfway.**_

So much for being civilized.

I hate those sessions as much as you do.

--

I'm used to pressure like this.

I'm used to be pushed, and backed into a wall until I snap and get angry, so yeah, I admit to being stubborn. I admit to having a fiery temper just like yours. You don't know how my state of my mind when I reach that point. I hate being under my older brother's shadow all the time; always being second best. Zack always gets the attention from our father, but there's my mother who actually does care about me. She's my mom. She has to. Zack and I are close, but I go green around him. I almost wish he weren't there. Because of my brother, my father never thinks I'm good enough.

My dad doesn't abandon me or anything, but he just values Zack more.

And _that_, along with the games you play with my mind (without even realizing it), angers me more than anything.

In that state of mind, I feel claustrophobic. I feel like the biggest and the widest room will somehow shrink, and the walls will fully close with me in between them. Any type of anger makes me feel claustrophobic. I hate looking weak, and vying for _anyone's_ attention.

It's sad because I really _am_ claustrophobic.

"Okay, I'm here," I say to you, as I say standing in front of you in the middle of the basketball court. So that's what you mean by 'meet me halfway'. You're wearing those off-the-shoulder top things in black with your black bra strap peeking thorugh, and I realize that you're a jeans and Converse kind of girl.

_No shit…_

I frown slightly.

Okay, that's enough out of you!

"I didn't think you'd show…"

"Well, here I am…"

It's completely dark with only a few stars out, sparkling. The basketball court is eerily lit, and I don't think it's playable; just for decoration. But it makes me realize that I see you differently in a new light. You look like you're going to cry, because the look in your eyes changes.

"You hurt me, y'know…" you tell me, almost whisper quiet. Oh, so that's what the guilt thing is. But I wanted to. I wanted to hurt you, so you'd break, and then I'd be able to put the pieces back together again, and love you. It's almost as if you're reading my mind when you ask me this question. "Did you do it on purpose, Logan?"

"Yes," I admit, truthfully. You get angry again, and want to walk away from me. But _you're_ the one that called me. So, you know what, Cruz? You're going to stay and listen because I have a reason. I grab your arm to stop you from leaving. I should get points for honesty, because who am I kidding?

"Let go of me, Logan," you say, and pull yourself from my grasp. You whip around, and the tears are starting to form. You don't want me, of all people, to see you cry. Just wait for me to catch you. Just cry and let me catch you already. My patience wears thin, and that makes me angry too. "You're sadistic, you know that? I thought time would change people! I thought time would change _you_! But it didn't. Well, go ahead and explain yourself! Why the _hell _do you think it's okay to treat anyone the way you want, and get away with it, huh? Tell me, damnit!"

The tears are flowing freely from your beautiful brown eyes. So what if I treat people the way I want? I find myself getting angry, even though I want to just reach over and wipe the tears away, but I don't.

I don't, so I won't.

Because you did the same to me. Hurts, doesn't it?

I never let anyone see me cry but myself, which is why I value my mirrors highly. I can see my own tears, and my reflection is obedient. It's silent and all it has to do is reflect how handsome I really am. My reflection doesn't say a word about my one moment of weakness. So, no one ever finds out, and I can try to move on without being reminded of you.

"Fine! You want an answer? I'll give you an answer!" I yell frustrated. "Try being put under someone's shadow all the time, Dana! My father always put my older brother first and – "

"At least you have parents and a family!" you yell, and sound like you're going to cry. "I was the product of rape, so I have no idea who my father is…or where he is. My mom had me when she was just twenty-five and had to put her budding law career on hold just to take care of me. She did become a lawyer though. Lola's mother is my mother's younger sister, so they were pregnant around the same time, but Lola was born first. France was a great opportunity so I took it. I could have come back at the end of freshman year but I didn't…"

There's a lot of information for me to process.

Congratulations on making me look like an ass, Cruz. You deserve a nice pat on the back.

_She didn't do anything. You did that all on your own. _

Okay, that's it. I'm going to find a permanent way to off this little voice in my head. It's so irritating.

"Why?" I find myself asking stupidly.

"She died," you say in a tone way too icy, even for you and you end up sending me a piercing gaze that makes me flinch inwardly against my will. Your eyes have this hauntingly beautiful quality about them. "Cancer. So, I live with Lola now, and her older sister, Kelly with their parents… 'Cruz' is my mother's maiden name, and the only thing I have left of her."

You go silent, and the tears continued to flow. For once, something Ms. Larson says actually sticks.

"_**The animosity you have between each other is to hide what is really there…" **_

I'm freaked because I never listen to teachers. Ever.

Your voice breaks, "So, now you know. You know my little sob story of how I'm technically an orphan and I'm actually weak and – "

Now that you've fallen, I can catch before you actually hit the ground. I can catch and when I do, I don't plan on letting you fall ever again. To catch you, I kiss you in mid-sentence. I'm not angry anymore. I feel your breath hitch in shock, but afterwards I feel you snake your arms around my neck, as I feel your lips move with mine. You taste like strawberry, probably your lip gloss, as I try to get entrance. I take advantage of your slightly parted lips, and soon I find your tongue mixing with mine. I pull away from you, and I hold your hand. Our fingers are interlaced.

You smile a small smile through your tears and say, "I hate those damn sessions…"

I smile back, slightly and wipe the tears away with my thumb, "Me too…"

I guess we won't be going to the one anger management session we have an appointment for tomorrow…

This time, it's _your_ turn to catch me off-guard with a kiss…

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**A/N: I'm done with this story. Just the main stuff. I'm thinking of making this a three-shot, when they go to the counselor. I'm already planning a chapter of it in my head. That'll tie everything together. But I can leave it like this if you guys want. You guys have to review A LOT and tell me you want it to be a three-shot. If I don't get a lot of reviews, then I won't do it, and this will be complete. Behind Green Eyes has been updated! Read and review!**

**I'm off to work on my other two-shot, Surrender…tomorrow. I'm too lazy now. Later, people!**

**Review!**

**-Erika**

**PS. On a totally different note, I'm having a bit of trouble on ****Dirty Little Secrets****. I don't know who to write first, Lola or Logan because they both have big parts in the story, right? Read that, review and then help me decide in a review. Thanks! **


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